Then a very great war man, call'd Billy the Norman

Longing while living for laurel and bays, Under this willow a poor poet 'lays'; With little to censure, and less to praise, He wrote twelve dozen and three score plays: He finish'd his 'Life', and he went his ways.

The Dons came to plunder the island; But, snug in the hive, the Queen was alive, And "buzz" was the word in the island.

Daddy Neptune one day to Freedom did say, If ever I live upon dry land, The spot I should hit on wou'd be little Britain! Says Freedom, "Why that's my own island!" O, it's a snug little island! A right little, tight little island,

Oft cruel Wars contending Hermits wage, And long for the disputed Shell engage. The strongest will the doubtful Prize possess, Pow’r gives him Right, and All the Claim confess.

It would be superfluous in me to point out to your Lordship that this is war.

Watch every tendency towards militarism, for we know that preparation for war leads to war.